A bit of a thick head this morning, one that wasn't going to go away quickly. We eventually headed into town on the bus jumping off at the end of Hyde Park. The first thing you see is the ANZAC memorial which has a good little exhibition at the bottom with field photos and minor skirmish histories which brings out some of the realities of war. A pity, though, that when you emerge and look for the photo the memorial is entirely framed by the unappealing American Express building.
Hyde Park has a number of stalls set up in the most skeleton fashion, we expected more "works" less than 24 hours before Australia Day but Mark later noted that the Aussies are adept at overnight creations and removals. At the bottom of the street is Sydney Opera House, one of the world's most identifiable buildings. Close up, though, to me it lost some of its magic. Famously, it's not white but a creamy beige and the shells don't join as smoothly as you might want. A few pieces jut and jar out of the whole. However, they do make good use of space with balconies all around for the concert or opera goer to slurp their Chardonnay at half-time. It does blow a bit of a gale out on the end [by the water] and Port Jackson doesn't look like a smooth sail, nor a particularly trouble free one as ferries are constantly toing and froing excluding all the pleasure craft bombing about.
We took a stroll down Circular Quay and scoffed and ice cream in the 40C sunshine (so said the watch, anyway). It was late afternoon but we slogged up the road into town to buy more films for Helen but we were too late. Back down to Circular Quay which doesn't look particularly circular though the previous waterline (as marked on the current quayside) looked as though it might have been. Given the size of the new apartment blocks I guess they could affort to destroy a historic feature.
The Botanical Gardens are more gardens than botanical, maybe they're more spread out than, say, Melbourne. They do have an open air cinema, the screen looks like a sloping jetty out in the water before being raised, which is a nice feature. There is another one in Centennial Park where you just loll on the grass rather than sit in chairs.
We're due to meet Mark and Cronan at the only straight pub on Oxford Street which looks like a straightforward walk up the road. Maps may not lie but they can be economical with the truth. We end up climbing the road opposite the Thai restaurant of choice tonight so we skip the beer. At the top of the stairs to the restaurant is a fishbowl with a gulping fat fish. It reminded me of the Tokyo restaurants where you can select your meal on the way in. A nice meal. I was slightly perturbed by them "taking care" of my pack of beers on the way in but they have a fridge by the desk which is a good thing. We're unsure what to make of the flaming tin-foil wrapped meals that go to another table. How do you open them without burning yourself? Everybody's tired so we head home cathcing a taxi rather than wait another 25 minutes for the bus. Cronan's sure the driver hit the "bonus three dollars" button hidden under the dash as we halt but the driver's saying nothing.
Chez Mark, Sydney S33.90526 E151.26016 Elev. 72m
Copyright 2003 Ian Fitchet. All rights reserved.